


Hold Me Tightly...

by lacedwithlilacs



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 21:19:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacedwithlilacs/pseuds/lacedwithlilacs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>...Whisper loving things into my ear; Fuck me into the mattress...</i>
</p><p>Enjolras is a secret snuggler in bed and sometimes Grantaire just can't stop himself from rolling over on top of his god in the morning and fucking him without saying a single word.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Me Tightly...

**Author's Note:**

> Completely inspired by this work of art by tumblr user hawberries (http://hawberries.tumblr.com/post/47613713919).

When it's hot out, in the middle of summer, it's nearly unbearable to sleep with Enjolras. It's better in the winter, though sometimes even when there is frost covering the windows, Grantaire will wake up in a sweat and try to push Enjolras away. Enjolras' body burns at least a few degrees warmer than Grantaire or perhaps his body just radiates more heat than the normal human being. Maybe that was why in the winter, Enjolras would wear four layers of clothes and despite obviously shivering, never complained about being cold; he radiated his body heat away from him.

In the spring and the fall, it's a bit more bearable, especially when they haven't yet turned over the summer blankets to the winter ones. When the nights are just a tad bit chilly and Enjolras wraps both of his arms around Grantaire's torso and pulls the bigger man in, his nose pressed between two ribs. Enjolras holds him close, his legs intertwining with Grantaire's, an arm wrapped around Grantaire's waist and another snaking up his back and loosely resting on Grantaire's shoulder.

If Grantaire is lucky and Enjolras wants to ride him, Enjolras will fall asleep with his nose pressed against Grantaire's neck and his hair splaying out near Grantaire's nose. His hair smells like beauty, a mixture of flowers and sweet and herbs. Grantaire has never asked Enjolras about how he cares for the long golden curls, but his hair is always perfectly beautiful. Enjolras will cling to Grantaire the entire night, body pressed up tight against the larger, darker man. When they wake in the morning, there are red marks on Grantaire's body where Enjolras' elbow had laid for the past four hours.

It isn't always sex though, Grantaire notes when he starts sleeping at Enjolras' for nights on end. When he'll fall asleep to the soft scratching of Enjolras' tip on paper by the candlelight and he'll wake up in the middle of the night with his god pressed tight against his body. He wonders if Enjolras does it on purpose, if Enjolras climbs into the bed and immediately wraps his thin, muscular arms around Grantaire and holds until he drifts off to sleep. Or if instead, he'll fall asleep facing the opposite direction, willing himself not to grab the drunkard for one night and then like a magnet, his body is pulled to Grantaire the second his willpower is gone.

Enjolras tucks himself into Grantaire's curls, the tips of his fingers embedded in the tall man's hair, his nose pressed against the crook between Grantaire's jaw and ear. Grantaire wakes up to the sun pouring in the window, a rectangle of bright light on the wooden floor next to the bed but without any direct rays on his face. He stirs slightly, stretching his legs and attempting to free his arms from Enjolras' tight grip, which only increases upon feeling Grantaire move. Grantaire has gotten accustomed to the tightening of Enjolras' arms around his body when he attempted to move in the morning, almost as customary as a good morning kiss.

Grantaire lays there for a moment more, on his back, staring up at the wooden ceiling above them when he hears the soft groan of Enjolras waking. Grantaire shifts his gaze down to Enjolras, eyes blinking slowly as they survey the room. Grantaire smiles down at him, his arm wrapping around Enjolras' shoulders and holding him in place as he leans in and presses a chaste, loving kiss to Enjolras' forehead.

One kiss turns into two, until Grantaire is kissing down the bridge of Enjolras' beautiful, marble carved nose and capturing the thin, soft lips with his own. They roll over together, Enjolras onto his back and reaching his arms up, wrapping them loosely around Grantaire's neck. They kiss, without a single word, soft at first until Grantaire finds himself pressing hard against Enjolras' lips, needy and hungrily. Enjolras bites at Grantaire's bottom lip, tugging and pulling gently until Grantaire surges forward and presses his tongue against Enjolras' lips, working them open.

Grantaire shifts again, pressing his leg between Enjolras', Enjolras immediately grinding himself up against the thick, muscular thigh and letting out the slightest hint of a moan. Grantaire moans in response, instead letting Enjolras' mouth and sounds do the coaxing for him, the teasing as he smothers his god in kisses and love. Enjolras moans louder against Grantaire's lips, grinding himself harder and it takes a moment for Grantaire to get past the moan and the feeling of Enjolras' hard dick against his thigh to register. He reaches down and slides Enjolras' night pants off, leaving them under the covers for Enjolras to kick away, immediately taking Enjolras in hand.

The only response that Grantaire receives is a soft moan against his lips, success for Enjolras' usually quiet demeanor. He strokes Enjolras with his left hand and shimmies out of his own pants with his right hand, pushing them completely off before he slows his kisses on Enjolras' lips. They devolve to his nose, his cheek, his jaw and slow before Grantaire pulls away for a moment, throwing the blankets off and fetching a small container of oil to slick himself up with.

He comes back to the bed with the small bowl, a finger sized one of china that Enjolras must have inherited from his mother years ago. Grantaire dips his two fingers in, just the pads, but pulls them up with a thin line of oil connecting them to the majority in the bowl. Enjolras' eyes widen only barely, enough that only Grantaire who's been fucking Enjolras for almost a year now, would be able to tell. He rubs himself under the blanket, knowing that Grantaire is watching with hungry eyes and he swallows hard imagining Enjolras' beautiful long, feminine fingers drifting over his cock so wonderfully, all because of Grantaire.

Grantaire coats the backs and fronts of his index and middle fingers with the slick oil and sets the bowl down on the desk across from the bed. He rejoins Enjolras on the bed, immediately attacking him with ferocious, devilish kisses as though he'd been deprived for years. Enjolras brings his legs up, wrapping around Grantaire's hips as he positions his fingers against Enjolras' entrance, slowly pushing his index finger in. Enjolras lets out the softest gasp and moans against Grantaire's rough lips, his hands coming to Grantaire's shoulders and gripping loosely.

Enjolras grinds himself against Grantaire's finger, the finger steadily pumping in and out of Enjolras gently, lovingly. He kisses at Enjolras' cheek and neck, dipping up for quick, loving kisses to his god's mouth before resuming his position at the soft expanses of pale, beautiful skin. Grantaire presses his second finger in, slowly and letting Enjolras adjust to the familiar feeling again, kissing as Enjolras' head rolls back and his lips part in the softest groan.

Grantaire slowly fingers him until Enjolras is keening, rocking his hips back against Grantaire and his fingers are gripping thick shoulders. Grantaire pulls away from Enjolras again, eliciting a low, barely there whine from the marble god. He reaches over, barely able to make his fingers stretch far enough to scoop some of the oil between his fingers. For a moment, he's afraid of admitting defeat in front of Enjolras, of having to get out of the bed again, unhook Enjolras' legs from around his waist, when he finally gets his fingers in the cold liquid.

He coats himself with the oil and gives himself a few quick strokes, fully in Enjolras' vision beneath the thin sheet and positions himself. Enjolras' lips part again as Grantaire pushes inward, Enjolras' legs tightening around Grantaire's waist and another low moan escapes his throat without a shred of embarrassment. Grantaire leans forward again, kissing at Enjolras' neck and nipping now, biting at the soft skin until Enjolras is gasping. Grantaire fucks him slowly, gently and with all the care in the world.

Enjolras loves it, presses back against Grantaire's slow thrusts, fucks himself on Grantaire's dick in the most loving way possible. He grasps at Grantaire's hair, pressing as much of himself against Grantaire's body as possible, his unsealed lips groaning at every thrust. This is all they need, Grantaire thinks as he buries his nose into Enjolras' golden locks, grasping onto each other as though they were to split apart at any given second if they didn't hold on for all their lives.

As they both near the edge, Grantaire's thrusts speed up, until he's earnestly fucking Enjolras into the mattress, the sound of skin against skin so satisfying. Enjolras' mouth hangs open, only the softest bits of sound escaping with every thrust. Grantaire wishes Enjolras would be louder, moan into his ear, gasp hot breath against his skin, but he loves the little bits that Enjolras does allow him to hear. They're a symphony to him, one that he alone can play.

Enjolras drags Grantaire's head up, fingers pulling on the dark brown hair and repositions the drunkard's mouth against his own. Grantaire grasps Enjolras, his fingers still slippery from the oil and Enjolras' precome slickening up his dick as Grantaire strokes him in time with his thrusts. Enjolras' grip on Grantaire's hair almost becomes painful as he comes, pulling away for the slightest second and moaning out "Grantaire" as he comes. His orgasm spills over Grantaire's knuckles and his chest.

The feeling of Enjolras clenching around him during his orgasm brings on Grantaire's at a rapid pace. He thrusts once, twice more before he comes himself, pulsing inside of Enjolras and marking the god. He moans Enjolras' name out, loud and in Enjolras' ear, feeling Enjolras shudder beneath him. Grantaire grabs a small towel from the headboard as he pulls out. Grantaire cleans his hand first, using his tongue and with Enjolras' eyes watching the small pink tongue lick over the rough knuckles before he cleans Enjolras' stomach of his orgasm. He gasps, trying to catch his breath and lays next to Enjolras, feeling lithe arms wrap around him instantly.

Grantaire clears his throat once before he smiles at Enjolras, "Good morning," he says. Enjolras smiles in reply, leaning up and giving Grantaire a kiss to the lips. Enjolras presses his tongue against Grantaire's and Grantaire can still taste his name on Enjolras' lips, the only word Enjolras has spoken all morning.


End file.
